Page 30 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

Delighted, Auren set to sampling one of everything, firing a hundred questions at Ulric in rapid succession. About the instruments, the costumes, and the history of the theater. Ulric answered them all with infinite patience, smiling like a man content to simply exist beside him.

Then, with a low sweep of the conductor’s hand, the lights dimmed, and the performance began.

It was glorious.

Vibrant music crashed from the pit as dancers exploded onto the stage.

Acrobats gracefully flung themselves through the air, and shimmering costumes caught the light like falling stars.

The tale that unfolded was simple but enthralling: a lover searching for his lost beloved across endless seas, mountains, and deserts.

It was told not through words but through the sheer poetry of movement, each leap and turn a verse in the story.

Auren was utterly captivated. He leaned forward in his seat, breathless, forgetting where he was as he let himself fall into the story.

The music swelled into a frantic crescendo, the violins screeching a final, broken note.

The two lovers were torn apart, their bodies straining for each other, their wailing notes raw as the velvet curtains swept across the scene like a closing grave.

The last thing Auren saw was a hand reaching out, and then it was gone.

A tear slid down his cheek before he even realized it.

“It’s not over, is it?” Auren asked in horror.

“No, this is just a break,” Ulric said, then laughed at the obvious relief on Auren’s face. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen this one. It has a happy ending.”

“Oh, thank gods,” Auren said, slumping in his chair.

At intermission, Ulric slipped away and returned moments later with two bottles of wine tucked under one arm and a mischievous gleam in his eye.

They sampled them freely, letting the warm buzz settle into their bones as they nibbled from the tray of delicacies.

Auren, flushed from the drink and the thrill of the first act, whispered excitedly with Ulric about his favorite parts.

The two of them were leaning in so close that their shoulders touched, laughing low like co-conspirators.

When the show resumed, Auren sank back into the plush chair, wine glass in hand, heart thudding with anticipation. Once again, he was utterly swept away.

He gasped out loud when the final scene exploded into a breathtaking display.

Firebreathers spinning ribbons of flame through the air, dancers leaping around a coach pulled by living horses adorned in costume.

The two lovers reunited in a triumphant, soaring song of forgiveness and devotion, their voices rising in perfect harmony as the orchestra thundered.

Auren’s heart felt so full it might burst. He didn’t even realize he was crying again until Ulric nudged a handkerchief into his fingers. He wiped his cheeks and gave a little laugh, more than a little embarrassed.

“You didn’t tell me it would be so beautiful.”

“Some things are better when discovered for yourself.”

The lovers shared one final kiss centerstage, surrounded by the glow of swirling embers, and the curtain fell to a rapturous standing ovation. Auren clapped until his palms stung.

He didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want any of this to end. Not the night. Not this feeling. None of it.

And yet, even as the actors bowed and the orchestra struck its final chord, a voice boomed overhead:

“All general admission, please make your way to the exits. Our esteemed ticket holders are invited to remain seated.”

Auren turned to Ulric, wide-eyed. “Is that us?”

Ulric frowned slightly but nodded. “I suppose so. We are in the private balconies—and I gave enough gold to buy the cast.” He smirked. “I’ve never been to an exclusive show. Let’s see how it plays out.”

They waited.

As the primary audience filed out, Auren noticed something strange.

Those who remained on the main floor all wore white owl-shaped masks, completely obscuring their faces.

He could hear movement in the other balconies, too—the shifting of cushions and murmured voices—but the heavy curtains kept their neighbors hidden from view.

“Maybe it’s a secret part of the story? A special ending about the lovers?” Auren asked excitedly.

“Maybe,” Ulric said, but his brow remained furrowed.

When the last stragglers left, the theater dimmed, this time plunging the audience into near-total darkness. Only the faintest pools of light illuminated the stage.

The music began again.

Auren stiffened.

It wasn’t like the previous music. No soaring strings or triumphant horns. This was slower. Sensual. A pounding beat of low drums that thrummed in Auren’s chest.

He leaned forward eagerly, sure some thrilling stunt was about to happen—an acrobat leaping from the rafters, or a parade of exotic beasts.

“Auren…” Ulric’s voice was cautious. Auren turned to see the Kraken holding one of the tiny vials from the shelf in his hand, turning it over with a frown. “I think maybe we should leave.”

“What? Why?” Auren said, half laughing. “It’s just starting?—”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

The curtains pulled back. And onto the stage poured half a dozen performers—completely nude.

Auren froze.

It was… carnage. Beautiful, sensual carnage.

Their bodies gleamed with oil, glowing under the torchlight, muscles sliding against one another like creatures from another world.

Every dancer wore a mask. Elaborate things of masterful craftsmanship, each modeled after an animal.

It obscured their identities but somehow made the performance all the more wild.

Some wore slivers of lace so sheer it hid nothing, accenting the shape of their bodies—an invitation to revel in the sex that oozed openly through the air.

Naked and half-naked, the dancers tangled together in a writhing rhythm. Hands caressed slick skin. Mouths found the hollows of throats, the curves of hips.

One woman dropped gracefully to her knees, her mask tilting up as she looked at the man before her.

The crowd held its breath, a hush falling over the theater as she leaned in and parted her lips around the thick length of him.

Her hand moved in time with the low, pulsing drums, guiding him deeper into her mouth with a practiced, sensual grace.

Auren’s jaw dropped. His cheeks burned with helpless, hot color, his heart pounding so hard he heard it above the music. He clutched the edge of his chair so hard his knuckles went white.

Ulric shifted uncomfortably beside him.

“I’m sorry, Auren,” he said roughly. “I didn’t know— We can leave if you want.”

But Auren couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Heat coiled low in his belly, spreading to his hips and filling his groin.

No… he didn’t want to leave.

The scene on stage only grew more explicit. The performers, the sheer enthusiasm , and the pleasure painted openly across their faces was a tapestry of eroticism. The way they worshiped each other with touch, mouth, and tongue.

It was raw. Human. Hungry.

The air smelled of sweat and sex, and it was more dizzying than the wine.

And it awoke something in Auren that he hadn’t known was sleeping.

He wanted it.

He wanted him .

Auren turned, unable to help himself. And there was Ulric, sitting rigid beside him, his strong throat working as he swallowed, hands clamped tightly on his knees. Ulric, who had touched him, held him, protected him—Ulric, who was trying so hard to hold back.

Auren was a man—and Ulric was a man—and there was nothing between them now but choice.

And Auren was ready.

He wanted to feel everything. All of Ulric.

He turned, meeting Ulric’s wide, worried eyes across the darkness, and made a decision.

Tonight, he would dare.